


something new

by princesskay



Series: fragile (handle with force) [4]
Category: Mindhunter (TV 2017)
Genre: Anal Sex, Episode Related, Established Relationship, M/M, Rimming, Season/Series 01, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:42:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23657800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesskay/pseuds/princesskay
Summary: Despite Bill's best efforts, a quiet intimacy grows in the spaces between pleasure and pain.
Relationships: Holden Ford/Bill Tench
Series: fragile (handle with force) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1552183
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	something new

Somewhere in the bowels of the hotel, the furnace kicks on to combat the dropping temperatures and snow flurries outside. Holden lays on his back, staring up into the darkness while the unit rattles and groans, wheezing lukewarm air from the floor vent. Across the room, Bill isn’t moving or making a sound, but Holden can tell by the pace of his breathing that he isn’t sleeping either. 

They shut the lights off an hour ago after Bill complained about separate rooms and personal space, just one of the many moments of friction since this case in Altoona began. They haven’t agreed on the profile, whether the unsub is a local or someone from out of town, and they haven’t talked about why the silences are so suffocating. 

Holden rolls over, trying to get comfortable, but the restless energy humming in his veins is making the bed seem lumpier than it really is. Ever since the car crash and the night that followed, Bill has been quiet and irritable, and Holden feels like he’s trying to find the way ahead between them in the dark. 

Never one to talk about his emotions, Bill has only thrown out casual references to unhappy marriages and men with short tempers ever since Ocasek approached them about Beverly Jean, leaving Holden to wonder - and worry - if he’s having second thoughts about their arrangement. 

Part of him feels foolish for chasing after Bill’s approval the way he does when Bill had made it clear from the beginning that this is just sex, he isn’t leaving his wife for Holden, and he isn’t getting emotionally involved. No strings attached, and he can leave whenever he wants. Holden had just hoped he wouldn’t leave so soon. 

Holden’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness some time ago, and he quickly matches the squeak of bed springs across the room to Bill’s figure rolling over. A heavy sigh echoes across the space between them, the sound of the same insomnia that’s plaguing Holden. 

Holden rolls back over, and props his elbows underneath him. 

“Bill?”

There’s a pause before Bill grunts, “Yeah?” 

“Nothing. I just wasn’t sure if you were still awake, too.”

“Yep.” 

Holden bites the inside of his cheek as they fall silent again, tension elongating across the shadows. 

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, peering across the room at Bill’s face shrouded in darkness. 

Bill pushes up on his elbows, and reaches over to grab his cigarettes from the nightstand. The lighter flashes in the darkness, illuminating his tired expression in a burnt orange glow for a few moments before dissipating.

“Frank.” He says. 

“What about him?”

“I don’t trust it - the narrative that he’s turned his life into.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nobody goes from attacking a girl and spending time in a mental institution to being happily married with a new baby. Not without a few bumps along the road. He isn’t happy or settled, no matter what he says.”

Holden considers it before nodding. “You really think he was involved?”

“I’ve seen these types of guys over and over again.” Bill says, leaning forward to brace his elbows against his knees while he smokes. “They get married because it’s what is expected of them, or because it gives them absolute control over that person. Then a kid comes into the picture. The whole thing spirals out of control. Suddenly, the narrative doesn’t make sense anymore. It can’t. They realize they’re trapped - for life.”

Holden’s breath hitches. A question leaps up in the back of his mind, but Bill’s mercurial mood recently makes him pause. He can’t ask Bill if he sees some part of himself in Frank. Not since they’re eyeing him for Beverly Jean’s murder.

“The child was a stressor.” Holden murmurs, “I guess it’s like Wendy said with Rissel. Good news sometimes hits these men the wrong way.”

“Everyone is so keen to believe he’s cleaned up and changed his ways. Nobody questions someone’s devotion when they become a father.” 

“So, what can we do?”

“Nothing right now. There’s no evidence he did it.”

“We have more friends to question tomorrow. Maybe something will shake loose.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Holden fluffs his pillows, and leans back against it while Bill continues to smoke in silence. A few minutes later, he crushes the stub in the ashtray, and lays back down. 

The silence lasts for another ten minutes, during which Holden closes his eyes, but doesn’t think about sleeping. Behind the black sheen of his eyelids, he sees that night in vivid color, Bill’s paisley tie around his wrists, the hum of pain encompassing his ass entirely and going deeper into places Bill had never touched him before. The heady exhilaration of it still makes his blood pound, and his cheeks flush at the thought of how he’d ended up pleading and nearly crying for mercy. 

He’d let Bill push him to the brink and over the edge, and now he can’t stop thinking about Bill’s admonition that everyone is terrible and irredeemable. The logic might be flawed, but it was like the advice had given Holden some kind of permission to stop clinging to his fears and hesitation. He knows what he wants, so why should he stop himself? Especially when Bill is just as complicit. 

Holden opens his eyes, and frowns at the ceiling for a long moment with desire simmering in his belly. He tosses back the sheets with a grunt, and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. As he creeps across the carpet to his suitcase, Bill lifts his head from his pillow. 

“What are you doing?”

Holden crouches down to find the Vaseline from among his packed clothes in the darkness. Rising to his feet, he holds it up. 

“Well, neither of us are sleeping so …”

Bill grunts, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Holden, it’s almost twelve-thirty.”

Holden saunters across the room to Bill’s bed, and sets the jar on the nightstand. 

“Then tell me to go back to bed.”

Bill pushes up onto one elbow, and meets Holden’s challenging glare through the darkness. 

“That’s what I thought.” Holden says, grabbing the corner of the bed sheet and pulling it back so that he can slip underneath. “Scoot over.”

Bill grunts a sigh, and shifts toward the other side of the bed. 

Holden crawls under the blankets, and settles down on his side facing Bill. Reaching out a tentative hand, he strokes the hollow of Bill’s collar bones, and gently traces one fingertip down his chest where Bill’s sternum rises jaggedly beneath the delicate caress. 

“You hate it here.” He observes, softly. “I can tell you’re frustrated.”

Bill’s fist winds around Holden’s wrist, pausing the gradual journey of his fingers reaching towards his ribs. “It’s just another case.”

“Is it?” Holden murmurs, casting him a curious gaze through the darkness. “You’re grumpier than usual.”

“Than usual? Gee, thanks.”

“What? Please don’t tell me you think I’m attracted to you because of your sunny disposition.”

Bill scowls. “It is frustrating, isn’t it? We’ve got suspects, but no evidence or leads. Aside from that, I’ve got you and Ocasek trying to convince me that whoever did this is some out-of-town drifter.”

“You don’t like it that I’m not always agreeing with you?”

“Please, it isn’t that.” Bill says, scoffing in the back of his throat. “You’ve been arguing with me since day one.”

“So, then tell me what it is.”

Bill sighs, glancing down to watch his thumb rub across Holden’s wrist. “Look, I grew up in a town exactly like this one. Everyone thinks they know each other. They don’t. They see a version of each other that’s carefully constructed and tended to. In a small town, you have to, or else risk exposing the truth to people you can’t trust. You don’t need some drifter to do bad things. You just have to let the facade slip for one moment. One mistake and you’re back to your old ways. The pretty little life you set up for yourself is destroyed.”

Holden absorbs this information in silence. Bill is always so secretive about his personal life that he hadn’t expected this kind of honesty, but perhaps it’s easier to confess in the darkness where looks and judgments are concealed by shadow. 

“Do you ever go back to your hometown?” Holden asks, softly. “Or did you make a mistake?”

Bill lets go of Holden’s wrist in exchange for his hip, nudging the hem of his t-shirt out of the way to rub up against naked skin. He leans down to plant a kiss on Holden’s mouth, slow and deliberate, a nonverbal order to silence his questions. 

Holden moans softly, and winds his fingers around the front of Bill’s undershirt to drag himself closer. As Bill’s fingers slip under his t-shirt, his spine arches with a low, tingling shudder. Their hips collide gently, embracing for a few seconds, grinding and searching, until a shallow throb emerges. 

Bill’s mouth lifts from Holden’s, his breath spilling warmly across his cheeks. 

“I’d rather not discuss this.” He murmurs, “If you’re going to stay-”

“We don’t have to talk. You can take your frustrations out on me.” 

Bill releases a low groan from the back of his throat as he smothers Holden in another kiss. His tongue pushes past Holden’s lips without delay, tasting him, stroking his mouth open resolutely. Holden submits to the powerful kiss, jaw dropping open, and breaths surging eagerly from his chest. 

Bill’s stubble scrapes across his skin as the kiss severs wetly and moves across his cheek and down below his jaw. Tilting his head back, Holden revels in the wash of tingles that buzz down his spine at the graze of Bill’s teeth and the hot, wriggling press of his tongue locating Holden’s thrumming pulse. 

As the kiss simmers against his carotid, Bill pushes the t-shirt up Holden’s ribs until it’s bunched under his armpits. Holden raises his arms in submission, uttering a choked moan at the brush of Bill’s fingertips across his left nipple. 

Bill’s mouth works lower until it encounters the neckline of Holden’s shirt. He pauses to pull the garment off over his head, and there’s only another brief pause before he shifts lower, mouth branding its way down Holden’s chest to the taut bud of his nipple. 

Holden gives a staggered cry as Bill’s tongue circles the sensitive flesh, followed by the harsher scrape of his teeth. 

“Jesus, Bill.” Holden whimpers, his back arching against the sting of pain. 

Bill sucks the nipple into his mouth, applying firm pressure that increases to a dull ache before he pulls back. He allows Holden’s nipple to slide off his tongue only to endure the sharp drag of his teeth, the sizzle of pain. 

Holden gasps and clutches at Bill’s shoulders as the tender skin pulls free and aches against the breath of cool air. 

“Hands above your head.” Bill murmurs, his voice like gravel in the darkness. “Unless you want me to tie you down again.”

Holden shakes his head, and lifts his hands, breathing too hard to offer a reply aloud. 

Bill rubs his thumb across the slick, scraped nipple as his breath gusts against the other one. Holden shudders, his back arching up toward the promise of lips and teeth, some new urge for the raw sensation taking up residency in his chest. Until now, Bill has always cut directly to the chase, not taking the time to kiss him or stimulate parts of his skin other than that which takes punishment, and Holden hadn’t been prepared for how good the titillation of saliva and the minor pain of teeth feels. 

He gives a humming sigh as Bill’s tongue curls around his nipple, bringing the skin to a firm peak. Knotting his fingers together above his head, he struggles to keep himself from grasping at Bill’s hair to draw the slick stroke closer. 

Bill’s tongue strokes against him before his teeth come in, before his lips clamp down, before the touch starts all over again; and Holden’s cock twitches harder against his trousers, overwhelmed by this sudden coalescence of tenderness and pain. 

“Oh …” He moans, writhing up against the tugging withdrawal of Bill’s lips. 

Bill lets go, breathing hotly across the sensitized skin. 

Holden pants into the silence, his mouth hanging open in shock. “God, Bill …”

Bill’s palm slips down to find his cock rigidly hard and pulsing against the front of his pajama pants. A low chuckle grinds from the back of his throat. 

“My lesson didn’t stick, did it?” He murmurs.

Holden shakes his head. “No. It’s not entirely fair, though.”

“It isn’t?” Bill asks, his tone absent and cavalier even as he rolls Holden onto his belly. 

“You make it extremely difficult to practice self-control of any kind.” Holden says, peeking over his shoulder to glimpse Bill’s broad silhouette in the pewter moonlight streaking past the curtains, his eyes that indistinct gray in the low light. 

Bill grabs his pillow from the headboard, and nudges Holden to raise his hips so he can tuck it underneath. With his hips arched over the pillow, he straddles Holden’s thighs, and drags his pants down below his backside. 

“Maybe you just need me to reinforce it.” Bill says, smoothing his palm over Holden’s bare ass cheek. “They do say that repetition is the key to learning.”

“Yes, sir.” Holden whispers, his cheeks flushing with humiliated need that never eases no matter how many variations of this moment they cycle through. 

Bill hums a low response in the back of his throat as he squeezes Holden’s ass. 

Holden’s stomach knots with anticipation, and he presses his eyes shut. Bill is only fondling his backside, warming the skin to his touch, building Holden’s anticipation, and he feels on the verge of begging him to just do it already though they’ve barely begun, not even touched the surface of just how much tension has built between them since the hotel in Richmond. 

Bill’s other hand wanders down the dip of his spine, the faint graze of fingertips cropping up goosebumps across Holden’s skin. He presses his forehead to the mattress, swallowing back a whimper as Bill traces out his shoulder blade, the line of his shoulder leading into his neck, the clenched tension at his nape. As the caress travels towards his lower back again, Bill slaps Holden’s ass cheek gently, repetitive yet languishing. 

Holden bites at his lower lip as the minor bursts of contact elicit a tingling hum across his skin that dives down between his legs, drawing his cock taut with the anticipation of something much harsher. Digging his knees into the mattress, he arches his hips up into the recurring slap, offering himself ready and willing for more. 

Bill pauses, gathering Holden’s ass cheek in his right palm while the left applies the same light, stinging slap to the other side. 

Holden whimpers, struggling not to writhe against the gathering breathless weight in his chest and the buzz of swelling need between his legs. His nerves leap with every small slap, expecting more, wanting more. 

“Please …” He chokes out, curling his hands around the edge of the mattress. 

“Begging already?” 

Holden flushes, and feels the burn to the tips of his ears. He nods helplessly into the mattress, laying aside the last bits of his pride that are already flagging behind him. 

The backs of Bill’s knuckles graze the curve of his spine and the rise of his backside as he chuckles softly. “You want more?”

“Yes.” Holden whispers, raggedly. 

Bill applies a harder slap, still only a measure of his strength.

Holden flinches, and utters a choked sound. For a moment, he can’t speak as Bill doles out a handful of these calculated spankings that land just hard enough to arouse a sting, but not enough to make him writhe in pain. 

“Yes, I want more.” He whispers as Bill pauses to massage the lightly tingling skin. “Harder.” 

He hears the satisfaction in Bill’s slow exhale, feels it in the shiver that runs down into his palm. 

“You want it to hurt.” He says, and this time it’s a conclusion, not a question. 

Holden buries his face in the sheets, instinctively hiding the budding shame singeing his cheeks despite the cover of darkness. He nods, hoping Bill can see the eager reply so he doesn’t have to repeat those five damning words. 

Bill leaves the exchange to hang densely in the air for a long moment. He rubs his palm over Holden’s ass cheek, building the friction to a mild warmth before withdrawing his hand. 

Holden draws in a hitched breath, his whole body clenching with anticipation. His veins take on that heady thud, the quick yet deliberate pulse that he can feel almost bursting from his ribs. 

When Bill’s hand cracks back down again, eliciting a shocking sting, he leaves behind hesitation. Holden has little more than a second to draw in a breath past his reeling moan before the second, third, and fourth come lashing down across his backside. He struggles to catch up and fall into the rhythm, too overwhelmed by need to string together a proper thought. He can’t stop himself from moaning aloud through every spanking as Bill’s hand swings down swift and cutting. 

Holden’s hips lurch against the pillow with every blow, but with Bill’s weight resting on the back of his thighs, he can’t do much more than writhe feebly. His feet kick uselessly against the mattress every time Bill’s palm makes contact and the hot, prickling pain runs through his body like an electric current. 

Smothered in the pillow, Holden’s cock, all bound up in the taut front of his underwear and pants, throbs madly for freedom. He tries thrusting his hips into the pillow for friction, but Bill clutches him by the hip to pull him back into a stationary arch. 

Holden pants, his head spinning with the euphoric rush of pain and arousal, when Bill pauses. His right ass cheek hums with layers of stinging pain while the other lies untouched, waiting eagerly to be brought to the same raw, burning point. 

Grasping Holden’s left hip, Bill pulls his hips into a tilted angle so that his palm can land squarely on the wash of fresh, pale skin. He gives the left cheek a hasty squeeze before launching into another series of steady blows. 

Holden moans aloud as the stinging pain is reintroduced on the new patch of skin, starting at that shocking, breath-taking baseline and working past tingling warmth to a heated, raw burn with no less than twenty spankings. Holden loses track somewhere in around ten, but the repetitive crack of skin-on-skin stretches on, until he’s moaning and twisting away from every firm strike. 

The rhythmic scorch of Bill’s hand coming down cuts off abruptly, and Holden sinks down against the pillows, breathing in scattered, raspy inhales. 

Bill leans over him, rubbing at Holden’s raw backside as he whispers against his ear, “Is that what you wanted?”

Holden swallows hard against a rising moan as Bill’s rough fondling elicits fresh pain. He nods his head. “Yes. Please, it’s good … it’s so good.”

Bill snags Holden’s earlobe in his mouth, extracting a high-pitched whimper, before he mutters a response. “Fuck, Holden. You should be careful.”

“Careful?” Holden whimpers, hips arching as Bill’s touch pushes between his ass cheeks to rub up against his hole. 

“Talking like that …” Bill murmurs, circling his fingers hard against Holden’s opening. “... you make me want to keep you like this all night.”

Holden chokes on a moan. His body flushes with fresh heat as Bill’s coarse massaging plants a mild, raw ache in the tender pucker of his hole. 

Leaning back, Bill draws Holden’s hips back up into the submissive, arched position that he’s becoming all too familiar with. 

Holden closes his eyes, tries to steady his breathing. Still, he isn’t prepared - never is - when Bill’s palm starts raining down quick, sharp spankings on his already blushing ass cheeks again. This time, the strikes alternate back and forth, matching one burning ass cheek with the other, maintaining the building, humming pain equally. Holden’s hips twitch back and forth with every blow, already leaning into the next one by the time Bill’s comes down to meet the shivering arch. 

Holden moans through every spanking, and keeps moaning even when they come to a stop and both of Bill’s hands gather his stinging ass cheeks. The massage encourages the raw burn and the dull ache pounding at his groin. Holden urges his hard cock into the friction of the pillow, sighing aloud as he enjoys the broad strength of Bill’s hands slowly stretching him open, thumbs dipping down into the cleft to rub up against his opening and down into the tender spot just above his balls. 

“Oh, Jesus …” He gasps, his hips lunging as a shock of pleasure rushes through him. 

Bill drags his hips up from the pillow, maintaining a firm grip on his backside. 

Holden struggles to follow the repositioning, his mind racing. Bill is touching him more attentively than ever before, blending pleasure into the pain and he isn’t sure where this is going. Usually, Bill would be lubing him up, and working him open for his cock by now; but Bill’s breath trails hotly down his cleft as he gets up onto his knees, and the thought of being fucked immediately into the mattress drifts momentarily from his mind. 

Bill’s mouth stays close as he tugs on the trousers still bunched around Holden’s thighs. The fabric pulls free of Holden’s rigid cock, and he chokes on a cry as it springs free and the trousers slide down to his knees. Under Bill’s urging, he lifts each knee to let the pants come off. They slide from his ankles, and Holden hears them sail over the edge of the bed and rustle into a heap on the carpet. 

He’s left kneeling entirely naked in front of Bill, his belly shivering as cool air kisses his pulsing cock and his exposed backside, every inch of him vulnerable to Bill’s practiced touch. 

Holden’s rapid breathing and effusive moans clump in the back of his throat as Bill’s grip stretches his ass cheeks apart to the slow, winding gust of his breath. Shuddering, he adjusts his grip on the edge of the mattress until he can feel the inner wiring bite into his palm. Heat melts down into a nebulous mass of churning warmth in his belly and groin, anticipation thudding overtop the lingering sting of pain. 

Bill’s tongue starts at the top of his cleft and slithers downward, going slowly enough that Holden can feel every centimeter being lathered in hot saliva. The stroke glazes over his hole, and travels all the way to the top of his balls, stops and comes back up again. 

Holden quivers, a great, deep clench from his core that feels like a fresh, untapped vein of arousal opening up into a flood. He hears the gasp that tears from his throat, but his mind is trapped on a hazy carousel of pleasure. He remembers Bill licking him briefly in their last encounter, but not like this - this caress lingers, strokes, searches, eases him into helpless compliance that makes his body want to open up like a blooming flower to the soft, simple pressure. 

“Oh god ..” He whispers, rocking hesitantly back into the stroke of Bill’s tongue curling around his hole. 

Bill hums an indistinct reply of approval as Holden leans willingly into the caress. Applying a little more pressure, he swirls his tongue around the pucker, loosely at first, and narrowing in on the opening slowly. 

Holden’s eyes squeeze shut as the wet heat envelops his hole, a divine, gentle pleasuring that he’s never felt before. The lingering sting of pain under the grip of Bill’s hands rubs up against this new, humming pleasure, and it all melds into a mass of pulsing arousal that concentrates in his groin, his belly, and outward. 

He can hardly breathe as Bill takes his time slowly licking him into relaxation before he tries more abrasive contact. Holden’s eyes spring open, and a cry leaps to his throat when the steady, swirling motion transitions into suckling pressure. Bill’s tongue retreats, and he gets his mouth around the lax pucker so that he can clamp down with suction. 

Holden gasps, his hips lurching away from the sudden pressure that feels a bit like he’s being taken apart and dragged open at his very core.

Bill clutches his hip with one hand, and slips the other under Holden’s trembling body to locate his nipple, still tender from the scrape of teeth. 

Holden whimpers, his body freezing yet still trembling as Bill’s firm grasp clamps onto his nipple and twists just hard enough to bring him into submission. 

“Fuck, please…” He pants, squirming against the steady pressure of Bill’s mouth on him. 

Bill’s mouth lifts, ending the intense pressure but grazing the sensitized flesh with the warm tickle of his breath. 

Holden shifts his hips back toward the retreating touch of blissful lips and tongue, but he can’t go far with Bill’s thumb and forefinger pinching hard at his nipple. 

“Do you want to be spanked again?” Bill asks, the low rasp of his voice raking across Holden’s quaking, frayed nerves. 

Holden doesn’t know how to answer that so he whimpers instead. In this moment, he doesn’t know what he wants because he’s too overwhelmed by the pleasure and pain; and maybe he wants it all, everything right this second - the sting of Bill’s hand, his tongue, his cock, his hands all over his tender body, soothing him and bruising him in places that he can’t yet imagine. 

“Is that a yes?” Bill presses, tugging at Holden’s nipple. 

“Fuck, I … I don’t know.” Holden moans, “Please, I’m just … I’m so hard-”

“That’s not an option. Yet.” 

Holden nods, hardly caring. “I know, just … keep going; whatever you want-”

Bill’s fingers release Holden’s aching nipple, and he sinks forward with his forehead pressed into the mattress. Overwhelmed tears clutch at the corners of his eyes as Bill grasps his wavering hip, and holds him in place for half a dozen spankings. 

Holden moans, his hips lurching away from the fresh rash of strikes. Before Bill’s mouth touched him, he’d put some effort into staying still, but he feels entirely destroyed, the last of his strength taken from him, falling to pieces faster now than when the severe pain in the Richmond hotel room had brought him to the point of begging; and even now, Bill doesn’t try to pull him back into position, as he seems to be enjoying to way Holden’s body tumbles helplessly forward, undone and overworked. 

When the spankings end again, Holden is tipped forward into the sheets, his knees half-curled under him, his nose pressed into the mattress as he uses the sheets to muffle his choked whimpers. 

Bill leans over him, fingers stroking the hair back from his temple to plant a slow, warm kiss. 

“Please …” Holden whispers, his voice hoarse and wrecked with need. 

“Please what?” Bill murmurs. 

“Can you …” Holden swallows hard, nearly choking on the request. “With your mouth …”

Bill chuckles softly. “You don’t need to ask me for that. I want to know what you taste like.”

Holden shudders as the response rolls like static electricity across his fraught nerves. He can remember whispering them himself in some dark, musty parking garage when he was desperate just to have Bill acknowledge him, this, them, everything they both wanted; but it hadn’t sounded at all coming off his lips the way it does coming off Bill’s. Bill’s tone is low and confident, presupposed, holding a silent conclusion: _ I’m going to find out. Right now.  _ And there’s no other option, not even if Holden had been offered one. 

“Come on.” Bill urges, nudging his bare hip. “Back up on your knees for me.”

Holden wrangles his limp body into motion, and situates his knees under himself. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tries to measure his breathing, and scrape together some composure; but the moment Bill’s hands urge him open again and his breath spills hot across the sensitive skin, he feels himself losing his grip on gravity, his sense of dignity. His whole body leans eagerly into the stroke of Bill’s tongue, and his mind is filled with a sole, throbbing need - for that caress to taste every part of him, to take him apart, work him open, slip inside. His cock aches with every shiver that rolls through him, his muscles clamping taut with anticipation. 

Bill’s tongue swirls hotly against him, melting him down into lax submission once more before that suckling pressure returns. This time, Holden finds himself leaning into the hard, persistent caress, accepting whatever touch Bill is willing to give him. 

Holden moans as Bill’s mouth slides off him, disconnecting with a wet smack. His skin hums and cools against empty air for a long moment before the pointed tip of Bill’s tongue presses up against him. 

“Ohhh …” Holden cries, breathlessly. 

His body seizes, but the clamp of need is especially forceful low in his belly. He can feel the molten heat of need turning him to a helpless mass of aroused flesh as Bill’s tongue applies pressure, finding its way gradually inside him. 

“Ohh, fuck.” Holden whispers, his breath catching.

He goes utterly still as the penetration works its way into him, slow, slick, slithering. The sensation is so wildly different from a pair of fingers or a cock hammering into him that Holden barely has to tell himself to relax before his body lapses open. In just a few dizzying moments, Bill’s tongue is sliding in and out of him, fucking his hole is shallow, slippery thrusts. 

“Bill, oh god …” Holden moans, rocking his hips back into the penetration. “Yes, yes …”

Bill’s hands clutch at his ass cheeks, stretching him open and pinning him in place as he hastens the speed of his thrusts. 

Holden moans and clings to the mattress as his body throbs persistently with desperate arousal. His cock jolts between his thighs with every pump of Bill’s tongue, reaching a constant ache that’s nearly unbearable. 

“Please …” Holden gasps, locking his fingers around the edge of the mattress against the urge to reach down and touch himself. 

Bill’s tongue eases to a stop and retreats, letting Holden’s body tremble against the sudden lack of friction. 

“Please.” Holden repeats, his voice tangled up in a moan. “I feel like I’m about to come.”

Bill is quiet for a moment, and Holden half-expects to be spanked into submission again. Instead, he nudges Holden’s thigh, directing him to roll over, and murmurs, “Let me see.” 

Holden’s insides quiver with aroused need as he rolls onto his back, and lets his legs fall open against the mattress. He can pick Bill’s features out of the darkness, the hard lines of his cheekbones and jawline, the slick tilt of his lips, the glint of his eyes consuming Holden’s trembling, stiffly aroused body with muted, humid satisfaction. 

He crawls between Holden’s limp thighs, and brushes his fingertips down the length of his twitching cock. 

The feathery touch ignites a sharp clutch of need between Holden’s thighs, and he moans aloud. His back arches desperately, pushing his hips up into the touch as the fleeting pleasure quickly sinks back down into the general, dull ache compounding in his groin. 

Bill’s thumb grazes the head, starting at the swollen rim and curling up over the slit where pre-cum leaks in a steady drizzle. 

Holden gasps, his body prickling with intense arousal that clings to the cusp of pleasure. Just a few strokes and he might be coming, but he knows Bill won’t let him have his orgasm so easily. Digging his heels into the mattress, he endures with a clenched jaw and bitten lips as Bill continues touching him, scarce strokes that only tease the pleasure to the forefront but leave it humming and unfulfilled. 

After spending several moments grazing his fingertips down the pulsing shaft and rubbing Holden’s balls across the heel of his hand, he goes back up to the glistening, weeping tip. Rubbing the pad of his thumb into the slit, he smears pre-cum back and forth across the head, making Holden’s skin glisten in the low light, making the shocks of arousal recur so sharply that Holden nearly sobs. 

“Oh, fuck, please.” Holden whispers, hoarsely. “Please, I can’t … I can’t take it.”

Bill withdraws his hand, leaving Holden to tremble and burn. Leaning back on his heels, he swipes the Vaseline from the nightstand. 

Holden heart kicks up a notch, fresh anticipation flooding his veins. 

Their gazes hold as Bill rises to his knees, and tugs the boxers back from his cock. The fabric lowers, and Holden focuses on the long, thick figure of his erection in the darkness, unable to see fine details but remembering it all well enough. 

Bill uses the Vaseline to oil his cock, and smears the excess along Holden’s cleft. His fingers penetrate the hole a few lazy times, just enough to get the Vaseline lathered inside before he pushes Holden’s knees up against his chest to pin him in place. 

Holden reaches up to grasp at the headboard as Bill guides his cock up against his opening. On the first graze, his eyes roll back and a moan breaches his throat. He offers up a choked whimper as the pressure immediately increases, and Bill’s cock thrusts slowly but persistently into him. 

“Fuck, Holden.” Bill mutters, his hands trembling around their grip on the backs of Holden’s thighs as he thrusts inside.

Holden moans in response, and slips his eyes open again to watch as Bill’s hips rock in shallow, searching thrusts against him. Gradually, his already submitting body opens up to accept Bill’s cock all the way inside him, down to the hilt where their bodies join with a deliberate, eager slap. The full, aching sensation explodes across Holden’s sense, obliterating all else. All he can think about is the divine friction of Bill’s cock nestling at the perfect angle inside him, rubbing up against his prostate, urging his already blown arousal towards the edge. 

“Oh my god …” Holden moans, shakily, casting Bill a desperate gaze. “I’m so close, I can’t …”

Bill’s thrusts shift into a steadier rhythm, and Holden’s voice staggers off into a moan. 

“That’s it.” Bill murmurs, watching the pleasure shift across Holden’s flinching face. “Go on.”

Holden’s brow furrows in a frown of surprise and concentration. This is new too - Bill letting him come right away instead of forcing him to wait for the touch of his hand. He reaches down tentatively for his cock, and Bill grunts his encouragement. Not hesitating a second longer, Holden takes his twitching cock in his fist, and uses a hard, feverish stroke. 

“Oh, fuck.” Bill whispers, his gaze raking up and down Holden’s trembling body and jerking fist. 

He leans over to brace one hand in the sheets while the other keeps Holden’s knee pinned up against his chest. Holden’s eyes slip open and shut against flares of arousal bursting through him, but he can see Bill’s head tilted down, attentively watching him come apart even as he keeps his thrusts steady and even. 

Holden barely has a few seconds to appreciate the attention warming his skin before the surging pleasure overwhelms him, and he comes with a full-bodied seize, as if every muscle inside him had clamped down beneath the grip of orgasm. Spasms roll through him, up through his groin, his belly, his chest; he can feel the shocked tingle all the way to his fingertips where he’s tearing at the sheets, at Bill’s chest, at his gushing cock. 

He’s anointed in his own cum, chest and belly shuddering with slick, dribbling rivers, as he emerges, shivering in the aftermath. His body jolts with every thrust of Bill’s cock, the powerful sensation hitting deeper and harder now that he’s all unraveled, the tension and need siphoned from his body with his drained release. 

Bill leans closer as his pace quickens. Holden’s eyes slip open just before Bill’s kisses him, a wet and sloppy embrace that jostles with his thrusting. Their teeth collide a few times before he catches onto Holden’s lower lip, biting softly and suckling on the claimed, plump skin. A groan works up the back of his throat to vibrate against Holden’s mouth, and Holden responds with his own pleasured whimper as Bill’s hips join repeatedly with his own. 

Bill’s steady pace devolves into hasty, fervid thrusts until, with a choked groan, he climaxes. Holden clings to his shoulders and buries his face in Bill’s perspiring neck as the shudders work through him, and his hips continue jaggedly stuttering against Holden’s backside. The rush of release inside him hits with a hot, slippery gush that he’s becoming accustomed to; in several hours, he’s still going to be leaking with it, a shameful, erotic reminder in the day of what moves they make together in the night. 

As the orgasm eases, Bill goes still against him. His forehead rests against Holden’s shoulder as he breathes hard. 

Holden strokes his fingers along Bill’s shoulder, up his neck, into his hairline, and back down again in a slow, simmering circuit. The touch gauges Bill’s shivers, the lack of tension in his muscles, the resignation in his body resting comfortably against Holden’s. 

When he does pull away, it’s minutes later, and Holden bites back a whine at the loss of warm, intimate contact. Without speaking, he gets up, and goes into the bathroom. Holden hears the faucet run before Bill returns with a damp washcloth. 

Holden lays back against the pillows as Bill wipes down his stomach, watching Bill’s stoic expression in the scarce moonlight. The usual, dismissive coldness is lacking even though he’s stubbornly silent, and Holden wishes he would say what he’s feeling just once. 

“Roll over.” Bill instructs, quietly. 

Holden turns over, and tucks his chin against his shoulder to maintain his silent observation while Bill runs the wash along the cleft and his thighs where the excess release had spilled out. 

“Thanks.” Holden murmurs. 

Silently, Bill gets up to take the washcloth back to the bathroom. Holden drops his head down over his folded forearms, and watches Bill’s shadow stretch from the bathroom and across the yellow patch of light on the carpet. 

For the first time since this all began, he feels undeniably foolish. 

_ Just take it for what it is. It’s just sex.  _ But those are Bill’s words, not his. And he’s never had sex like this before - not only the kinky parts, but the moments when he feels their bodies are fusing together, moving as one, sharing a silent language that invents itself with every encounter. 

Holden smothers that grossly romantic thought as Bill comes back to the bed, and slips under the sheets with him. Leaning back against the pillows, he folds his hands behind his head, and gazes quietly up at the ceiling. 

Drawing in a deep breath, Holden shifts closer to him, and tentatively dips his head to lay a kiss on his chest. 

Bill glances down, a frown knitting his brow as the affectionate gesture. 

“That was incredible.” Holden whispers, “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

Holden bites his lower lip, and ducks his head though Bill can’t see the distinction of color on his cheeks in the darkness. 

“With your tongue … your hands - your everything.” 

Bill slides one hand out from behind his head to stroke Holden’s hair back from his temple. “I’m okay. You don’t really have a point of reference.”

“Please.” Holden says, stifling a chuckle. “I may be inexperienced when it comes to sleeping with other men, but I know when someone is a good lay.”

Bill’s mouth purses, accepting the answer without arguing, but Holden can tell he’s lost in thought, the same usual turns of longing, denial, frustration, resignation - always silently flogging himself for what he wants even when he puts everything he has into these moments. Holden wonders when was the last time he felt something like this, or if it only comes along once in a lifetime - if Bill’s own point of reference has always been something far below the brilliant satisfaction of what they share. Bill had told him he wasn’t going to say he’s special, but Holden can’t help but think it. It’s how he feels, not selfishly but somewhere deep in his bones. 

“You should go back to your own bed.” Bill says, at last, his fingers retreating from Holden’s hair. 

“I’m comfortable here.” Holden says, trying for a wheedling tone. 

“It’s a double bed. I’ll kick you out before an hour has passed if we try to sleep together.” 

“Please?” 

“Holden, no-”

“Just for a few more minutes.” Holden suggests, pressing his cheek against Bill’s ribs and casting him a pleading gaze. 

Bill sighs, “Fine. Ten minutes. That’s it.”

“Okay.” Holden murmurs, turning his chin to land a kiss on Bill’s skin. 

“And lay on your own side.” Bill adds, jabbing a finger at Holden’s empty pillow. 

Holden withdraws with a muted sigh, and lays down on his side facing Bill. In the darkness, he can see the steady rise and fall of Bill’s chest, his eyes already slipping shut against incoming exhaustion. 

Holden doesn’t feel exhausted despite their day’s efforts. He feels wide awake, veins humming, alive. He feels good; and he feels something else new and gripping. Perhaps it’s nothing to be proud of, but he doesn’t feel ashamed or remorseful. Setting aside the foolishness of longing for Bill’s affection, the sex they’d just had was undeniably satisfying, and even if he can’t have all of Bill, Holden decides, at least he has some of him, all of the good parts - the dark parts - that he hasn’t shown anyone else. He has the truth, something Nancy will never have; and despite the fact that he’s the one breaking every time, he has Bill’s acceptance, his resignation. He has Bill, for however long this lasts. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I'm [prinxcesskayy](https://prinxcesskayy.tumblr.com//) on Tumblr!  
> 


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